


A Ghost in Marble of a Girl You Knew

by NyxEtoile



Series: What Lips my Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Developing Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile
Summary: There is always room for more love.Sequel to The Rain is Full of Ghosts Tonight in which Bucky meets a scarred doctor and the trio find there are ways to make room for one more.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: What Lips my Lips Have Kissed, and Where, and Why [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991110
Comments: 31
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was started in October of 2018, so two years and not, technically finished. But I know what's going to happen and I do have over 35K words in it, which should get me at least 10 chapters. It was in the top three WiPs in my recent poll and actually won as the one people were most interested in, depending on how you read the numbers. In any case, I expect to finish it, I want to finish it, and having a deadline may help me finish it.
> 
> Fic and series titles come from poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay, a marvelous mid-century writer you should really check out.

_January, 2018_

**Sharon**

When she took a job in private security, Sharon had been certain it was temporary. She would almost certainly burn out, fed up with dealing with drunks and jerks who couldn’t handle a woman in authority. It was a stepping stone, an excuse to move to New York with Steve. She had been sure she’d hate it.

She had not expected to love it.

Yes, there were drunks, though they were just as often her client, not someone rowdy she had to put down. But there were also awesome people. She and Angie Martinelli now got together for tea and exchanged Christmas gifts. (Sharon had once thought buying gifts for two ninety year old super soldiers was hard. Buying them for a ninety year old famous actress who already owned _everything_ was worse.) And she was just one of her regulars. There was the jeweler who was so deep in the closet she’d happily accept wardrobe advice from him. She attended diamond fairs with him, providing security while he bought and sold hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gems, then escorted him back to his shop where he always tried to give her something shiny as a tip. She’d sent Steve and Bucky to him at Christmas and hadn’t been disappointed.

It was the little things that surprised her, though. Like working a music festival and having the goth kids respectfully listening to her requests and actually policing each other when they started to get rowdy again. Even if they had called her ma’am. Or the biker meet-up last fall in which burly tattooed guys twice her age had brought her bottled water and oranges so she wouldn’t get overheated.

So, despite the fact it meant she occasionally had to make her way home on a Friday night when all the bars were getting out, she liked her job. She sat in the back of the cab that was slowly crawling towards home and contemplated the odd turns her life had taken. When she was a teenager all she wanted was to be a SHIELD agent. She was going to be Director Carter the Second. Everything else had come second.

Now she was working private security, living in Brooklyn with her two boyfriends. Fifteen year old Sharon would never have believed it.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she shifted to dig it out. Bucky had texted both her and Steve. _Going to be late. Delilah’s ex caught her outside the club and busted her nose. I’m running her to the hospital._

Sharon frowned at the words. Delilah was his boss at the burlesque club. She was a sweet woman, a couple years younger than Sharon, with one ex-fuck buddy that wouldn’t take “we’re done” for an answer. _You need backup? I’m still on the road._

_Nah. Shithead is in jail for the night, I’m just moral support. Thanks, though._

She wondered if Shithead had gone to jail with some new bruises of his own. _Let me know if that changes. Stay safe._

It took forty more minutes to reach the town home. Steve had left the porch light on and she could see the light in the bedroom glowing. The frigid January air bit through her coat in the time it took her to unlock the door. Inside was nice and warm, at least, and she shed her coat, boots, scarf and hat in the foyer before re-locking the door and heading upstairs.

Steve was smack in the middle of their oversized bed, reading what looked like mission briefing files. He looked up and smiled when he was her. “I was worried the sun would be up before either of you got here.”

She pulled her sweater off and dropped it in her hamper. It was quickly followed by her blouse and slacks. “I think I could have walked in less time.” She wandered to the en suite bathroom to brush her teeth. “Did you see Bucky’s text?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing Friday night at an ER in Brooklyn isn’t going to prioritize a broken nose and some bruises. He’s definitely not making it back before dawn.”

Foregoing a nightgown, she went back into the bedroom to find him cleaning up his work. “I hope Delilah presses charges. That guy needs to get put away for a good long time.”

Steve held up the corner of the sheets so she could slide in. “I’m glad he made it to jail. Last time he hassled Del, Bucky was ready to let the Soldier handle him.”

“There are a lot of places to hide a body in the tristate area,” she offered. “The Pine Barrens in Jersey, for example.”

He tucked an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. “You are a terrible influence on him,” he told her, kissing her.

For a moment she just kissed him, enjoying the feel of being in a nice warm bed after a long day on her feet. “It’s good for us to have similar interests.”

Steve chuckled, the sound rumbling under her cheek and hand. He played with her hair. “Think we should wait up for him?”

“Mmm, you can if you want. I’m exhausted.” She kissed his collarbone. “I’ll make him a yummy brunch tomorrow.”

Yawning, he hugged her a little closer. “Sounds like a plan. Sleep well, Sharon.”

Being a light sleeper, Sharon usually woke up whenever one of the boys slipped into bed. So she was somewhat surprised to wake up with the sun pouring through the windows having not been disturbed all night. Concern sunk in when she saw the expanse of bed beyond Steve was empty.

He was still fast asleep, breathing slow and steady. So she eased out of bed and slipped on a robe, heading down the hall to check the other bedroom before worrying Steve. They rarely used the room for anything more than a glorified closet since their custom bed was large enough to allow for space if someone needed it. Though Sharon had spent a few nights here a month ago while getting over a nasty round of bronchitis so she wouldn’t keep the boys up with her coughing.

The door was closed and when she peeked in she saw Bucky huddled under the covers, smack in the middle of the king bed. Relieved, she made her way back to the main bed room to put on sweats to go start coffee and survey their supplies for breakfast.

It was a little odd that he hadn’t come to bed. They all kept odd hours, especially on the weekends, and generally didn’t mind if someone was climbing in at the wee hours. But it had been after three when she and Steve fell asleep. If Bucky had come in at dawn maybe he’d been more worried about them disturbing him waking up than him disturbing them.

Steve came down when the smell of the first batch of bacon made its way up to him. “Bucky didn’t come in?” he asked, stealing a couple pieces, before ducking away to make toast.

“He’s in the spare room,” she told him, lining her baking sheet with another layer of bacon. The boys ate enough to make a football team proud.

Bucky came down after they had eaten and were sipping their coffee, reading. Steve got a paper news paper delivered and they usually divided it up between the three of them on the weekends. They had started a pile at Bucky’s seat of sections they’d both finished and he smiled faintly as he passed the table on his way to the coffee pot.

“How’s Del?” Sharon asked once he had sat and had a few sips of coffee. None of them were at their best without some caffeine in them.

“Good,” he said around a mouthful of toast. He addressed his responses to his plate. “We’re not gonna open tonight so she can take a break.”

She paused before asking anything else, unable to read his mood. Steve, apparently, didn’t have that problem. “You okay? You didn’t come to bed.”

Bucky lifted a shoulder. “I was kind of restless, didn’t want to keep you guys up.”

Steve opened his mouth to pursue it but Sharon kicked him under the table. He looked at her, startled, and she shook her head. Clearly something was up, but pushing would only make Bucky’s walls go up. Steve looked unhappy about it, but went back to his paper and they finished the meal in silence.

They spent the morning doing their own thing. Bucky ran their laundry up and down from the basement. Steve turned his intense focus on cleaning the bathroom and Sharon took out her dry cleaning and picked up groceries. It wasn’t until the afternoon while she was helping Bucky fold clothes when he finally spoke up.

“There was a woman,” he said, straightening a pile of shirts. “At the hospital.”

Sharon looked up, as did Steve. He had been removed from folding duty when it became apparent he couldn’t fold a t-shirt to save his life. “Oh?” Sharon asked, as neutrally as she could. “A patient?”

He shook his head. “A doctor. The one who worked on Del.”

It still wasn’t clear from his tone if this had been a good interaction or a bad one. Steve cleared his throat. “Did something happen?”

They waited through three shirts and a pair of Sharon’s jeans before Bucky responded. “I think I was attracted to her.”

Two distinct and conflicting emotions flooded Sharon. Pride, that he had come for far as to be attracted to a stranger. And jealousy, that he had somehow acquired a wandering eye. Steve looked utterly nonplussed so she focused on the first emotion and asked, “Has that been happening a lot?”

Bucky shook his head. “Other than you two I hadn’t really thought of anyone. . . like that.” He blew out a breath and gave up on folding, rubbing his hands nervously against his jeans. “She wasn’t even my type. At least, what I remember of my type. Petite, sweet, girl-next-door.”

“You also liked some fair haired, All-American types,” Steve offered, with a gesture at Sharon.

Since that was a fairly accurate description of both her and Steve, she didn’t comment. “And this woman wasn’t like that?”

“No.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “She was tall, almost my height, and strong. Not ugly, but not conventionally pretty. Long nose, wide mouth. She had a scar.” He gestured at his cheek. “And glasses. But there was just. . . something that drew me in. We only said a handful of words to each other. But I made her smile and it like getting punched in the gut.”

Pride was definitely winning out. “Did you get her number?” Steve looked at her, startled, but she ignored him. This wasn’t about them, it was about Bucky.

But he was shaking his head. “No. I mean, I have you guys and she was working. Plus Del was in a lot of pain. It didn’t seem right.”

“But you’re still thinking about her.”

He sighed and looked back at his laundry pile. “It was the first time- If we didn’t have what we have then I would have gone back for her number. That’s never occurred to me before. I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Steve finally got his voice back. “Is that why you didn’t come to bed when you got home?”

Bucky lifted his right arm in a shrug. “Partly. It was super late and I thought I’d sleep longer alone. But I was still thinking about her and it felt weird to do that around you two.”

Sharon wondered if “thinking about her” was polite code for “masturbating” but decided not to ask. Bucky wasn’t often shy about sex matters and if he had decided to be about this then it didn’t feel right to poke. “If you need space we’re happy to give you that. Whatever the reason.”

He nodded, then shrugged again. “I think I just need to process it, you know? It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.”

*

**Amanda**

“No, you are not taking me to another musical. I am only in the city for two nights I refuse to spend one of them like the yokel cousin from North Dakota.”

Amanda Newbury propped her chin in her hand and waited for her middle sister to finish her rant. “Don’t be silly, you’re our yokel sister from Colorado. We got tickets to a _hip_ musical.”

Becca grinned, but flopped into the couch, causing Jessie, their younger sister to squeak. “No musical.”

Sighing, Amanda leaned back in her arm chair and conceded, “Fine, no musical.” Personally, if she had to leave her house on one of her few nights off, there were few things she’d rather do than see a quality show on Broadway. But Becca had never been much of a theater fan and Amanda tried to avoid things that made her sound more like a mother than a sister.

Jessie put down the magazine she’d been flipping through - she had long ago learned to stay out of their fights - and said, in her best sympathetic interview voice, “What would you like to do?”

“Something. . . wild. Come on, we’re all single and in the city. Let’s get out there and do something worth of cable television.”

“No strippers,” Amanda and Jessie said in unison, causing Becca to make a face.

“I guess we could just do some bar hopping,” Jessie mused, though she didn’t sound particularly enthused about it.

Casting about for some other idea so she wouldn’t have to spend the night dodging drunken passes and playing designated driver and wet blanket to her newly divorced little sister. It was that desperation that made her blurt out, “What about a burlesque show?”

Her sisters turned to stare at her, incredulous and startled. “A - what?” Becca asked.

“Burlesque. Part strip show part dance production.” They were still staring so she explained, “I had a patient last week, she runs one a couple miles from the hospital, near the river. I reset her nose and gave her percocet for her bruised ribs and she proclaimed her love for me and invited me to come by for a show sometime. Hang on.” Amanda stood and went over to the end table by her door, where she typically emptied her pockets when she got in. After a moment of digging she found the little flyer the woman had given her.

Holding it up, she cocked a brow and gave her sisters a challenging smile. “Interested?”

Jessie was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, but Becca bounced to her feet and crossed the room to hug her. “You are the best big sister ever. I am buying you the first round.” She stepped back and glanced down at Amanda’s shirt. “But we’re gonna need to find you something to wear.”

Amanda quickly learned she had absolutely nothing her sisters deemed suitable for a trip to a late night burlesque show. Considering her fashion sense was mostly ruled by what was comfortable and machine washable this wasn’t entirely surprising. It was also January and snowy, which limited what she was willing to go out in.  
Her sisters settled for a pair of ripped jeans (with tights on underneath because, again, snowing) and a few layered shirts. She insisted on tossing on a red flannel in honor of her grunge phase and off they went.

The club was tucked in a basement beneath some sort of clothing boutique on a block with a smattering of other bars and clubs. There was a coat check but no bouncer until they got into the main room. A bar lined the left wall and the front was dominated by a half circle stage surrounded by a few dozen small tables and flanked by two security guards. Amanda recognized the one who had escorted the owner at the hospital. He spotted her as she and her sisters claimed a table. A look of almost shocked recognition crossed his face, then he smiled.

The sudden flush in her cheeks was from the crowded room and not that smile.  
There was a few minutes until the show started so Jessie went to the bar and ordered drinks and snacks. Amanda appreciated a bar that had proper food available. They were deep into an order of nachos and sliders when she felt a presence at her back and a deep, raspy voice said, “Doc?”

Her sisters were staring over her shoulder like George Clooney had suddenly appeared and said her name. Swallowing her last bite of food, she wiped her finger tips with a napkin and turned to see the bouncer from the hospital looming over her. “Hi. I didn’t get your name.”

His mouth quirked a little. “James. I told Del you were here and she was really excited. Wanted to know if you wanted to come backstage after the show.”

Becca was squeezing her leg under the table hard enough to bruise. “Can my sisters come too?” she asked, swatting her hand.

He glanced at Jessie and Becca, then back to her. “Of course.”

She succeeded in prying Becca’s fingers off her. “We’d love to, that’s very sweet of her.”

The little hint of a smile he’d had widened. “I’ll let her know. When the performance is over just wait here, I’ll come find you.”

“Got it.”

Taking a step back he added, “Oh, and next round is free,” before walking away.

She took a moment to watch his ass move in his snug jeans before turning back to her sisters. Who were staring at her mouths agape. “What?”

“Who the hell was that?” Becca asked.

“That was James. He’s a bouncer here.”

“And you didn’t mention him why?”

She sipped her soda. “I told you I met people from a burlesque club.”

“No,” Jessie corrected. “You said you met the owner of the club. You didn’t tell us about the walking paranormal romance cover.”

“Why paranormal?” Becca asked.

“Mainstream doesn’t have the scruff and the hair.”

James was rather. . . brooding. Hair past his ears and a a day or two’s growth on his jaw. It was not usually her type, not that she had much of a type anymore. She’d exchanged a few words with him when he’d brought Del in and had found him surprisingly sweet and almost chivalrous. It had been a brief encounter and she’d been in doctor mode, be she could admit - to herself at least - he’d made a bit of an impression.

Before she could explore that, or deal with an interrogation from her sisters, the lights dimmed and the show began to start.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a reprieve from looking at election results. I figure you do too.

The performance was fun, the dancers irreverent and sassy and the audience surprisingly polite despite their excitement. Becca seemed to enjoy herself. Amanda was impressed with some of the acrobatics and costumes more than the nudity. Though she had to admit the girl in the closing act was extremely pretty.

After the show, the crowd thinned almost immediately. Amanda and her sisters stayed in their seats, nursing their drinks. The press and crush of bodies set her on edge but she focused on her breathing and looked at her sisters until it had passed. She didn’t think Becca noticed - she’d had more drinks than either her or Jessie - but Jessie gave her a sympathetic smile and breathed with her.

There were still a few stragglers when James reappeared at their table, looking just as hot as he had before. “Ready?”

“Hell yes,” Becca said, bouncing to her feet.

Amanda and Jessie stood and exchanged an exasperated look. “Thank you,” Amanda said. 

“No problem.” He seemed amused by her sister’s antics. They followed him through the club to an unmarked door hidden to the left of the stage. It led to a narrow hallway that spilled into the backstage area. Which seemed to be one, large dressing room slash green room. Privacy was afforded by some temporary walls and shoji screens. It was a chaotic, crowded room and Amanda immediately felt the walls closing in and that tingling tightness in her spine.

She shook it off when Delilah came up to them. “Doc!” she said, rushing over. She was clearly coming in for a hug, so Amanda reached out and caught her hands before she could, squeezing her. Confusion flickered over her features, but she rolled with it, squeezing back. “I’m so glad you came.”

Amanda really couldn’t remember the last patient that had been this excited to see her again. She supposed you didn’t own a club if you weren’t the gregarious type. “My sister is in town and I wanted to show her a good time.”

Del looked past her at Becca and Jessie and grinned. “Good times are our specialty. Can you hang for a while? We’re throwing Gilly a party and the more the merrier.”

Gilly, she surmised, was the waif thin redhead at the other end of the room wearing a princess crown and doing shots. Amanda dodged Becca before she could non-verbally express her excitement and said, “We didn’t have any other plans.”

Del beamed. “Awesome.”

After introducing her sisters, Amanda followed Del into the crowd and made the rounds. She was only going to remember a handful of faces and likely none of the names. But all the ladies were warm and welcoming. And seemingly unfazed by three strangers being randomly invited to their get-together.

Becca was right at home, drinking and chatting and grinning in a way Amanda hadn’t seen in ages. Jessie was, as usual, slightly more reserved, but she was naturally charming and honestly interested in people’s stories. So she moved among the little groups, listening more than talking, but having a good time.

Amanda did her best to join in, at least in her opinion. She accepted the drink someone handed her and nursed it, trying to drift naturally the way Jessie did. But people had never been her strong suit and she had only gotten more introverted in later years. The busy crowd out in the bar and noise during the show had taken a great deal out of her. Her skin was starting to feel tight and stretched uncomfortably over her bones and her nerves were fraying raw.

Something hard and cool touched her arm and she jumped, hands curled into fists as she turned to face it. She found James there, looking almost as startled as she felt. “Sorry,” he said, sounding generally contrite.

Forcing herself to relax, she shook her head. “It’s fine. Not your fault.”

“I’m going on a coffee run,” he said, hooking a thumb behind him. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to come along.” He paused, then added quietly, “You look a little done with the crowd.”

She hesitated, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned that he’d noticed. “I don’t know. I mean, my sisters-“ She glanced over to where Becca was clearly flirting with one of the dancers and Jessie was having an extremely intense conversation with the other bouncer that had been out on the floor with James. Amanda sighed a little and felt her shoulders slump. It was like high school all over again.

His voice was gentle when he said, “C’mon. Any woman whose fight or flight instinct goes directly to punching is a woman I want to know better.”

The crowd really was pressing in on her and he had seemed like a good guy. Del clearly trusted him, as did the rest of the dancers and performers. So, with a glance back at her sisters, she nodded and followed when he headed for the door.

They stopped by the coat check so she could grab her heavy peacoat and not freeze, and then they were out in the bitter cold of a New York January.

Despite the chill, the cold air felt good on her flushed cheeks and for a little while they walked in friendly silence. Amanda breathed in and out and enjoyed the feeling of space and freedom around her.

“There’s a coffee place open this late?” she finally asked, when her skin had stopped feeling too small for her bones.

“Yeah,” he replied, as easily as if they’d been chatting the whole time. “Around the block there’s a cafe open from six am Friday to six am Sunday. I guess they get all the late-night drunks and people trying to sober up a little before going home. Once word got out about it bartenders in the area started sending people there after taking keys away.”

Amanda had seen more than her share of drunk driving victims and felt a surge of gratitude for the owner who had thought that up. “I would like to give that establishment money.”

James smiled. “Yeah, we’re regulars there.” He turned at the next corner and she hurried a couple steps to keep up with him, careful not to slide in the slush of the sidewalk. He paused slightly until she was back in step with him.

He hadn’t tried to reach for her, or steady her when she come close to stumbling. It didn’t seem to fit with what she knew of him. She filed it away to analyze later.

When they reached the coffee shop he held the door open for her and smiled at the barista, who greeted him by name. “Drew the short straw again?”

James lifted a shoulder. “Gilly’s birthday party, they were getting a little rowdy. Thought I’d make my escape.”

Amanda wondered if that was true. It might explain how he’d known she was stressed out from the crowd. Introverts tended to recognize each other in the wild.

The barista was now looking at her with unhidden interest, so James gestured at her. “This is my friend.” There was a slight pause while he remembered he don’t actually know her first name. Then he continued, “Doc. She’s keeping me company.”

“Hi,” Amanda said.

A grin. “Hey.” The girl looked back at James. “You got a list?”

“Of course.” He handed over a piece of notepaper, covered front and back with writing. “Take your time, though. In the meantime can I get a caramel macchiato and whatever she wants?”

“Black tea,” Amanda filled in. “With room for cream and sugar.”

“Got it.” She took the list from James and pinned it up before starting on their drinks.

James guided her over to a table in the back, then went back for their drinks, sinking into the chair across from her. “I thought all doctors were addicted to coffee.”

“Some of us get burnt out on it in our residency.” He’d brought sugar and a little pitcher of a cream and she poured them into her tea until it was just right. “Thank you for asking me to come out. This is a little more my speed.”

“I could tell you were getting a little overwhelmed.” He studied her over the rim of his drink. “You don’t like being touched.”

Swallowing a mouthful of hot tea, she nodded. “No, I don’t.”

“That have anything to do with this?” he asked, tracing the line of her scar in the air over her cheek.

“Some.” Most people made every effort not to mention it, making a big show of not looking at it. She kind of liked that he was blunt about it. “I wasn’t very touchy feely before. After. . .” she shrugged. “Some days are worse than others.”

“I understand completely.” He put his coffee down and shrugged out of his outer jacket. He had a short sleeved shirt on underneath and she got her first good look at his prothetic arm.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” she said, gesturing at the metal.

He glanced down at it and she couldn’t read the expression that crossed his face. “It’s. . . a prototype. I didn’t really get it the traditional way.”

There was something dark and painful in his tone that told her that was not a feel-good story. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I know better than that.”

Before she had even finished talking he was shaking his head. “It’s all right, really. I asked about yours.” He sipping his drink and she found herself watching him lick foam off his upper lip with far too much concentration.

“I was attacked,” she said quietly, almost despite herself. “I was working as a doctor in Africa and guerrillas came through. One tried to rape me and I fought back.” She touched her cheek, tracing the raised line of her scar.

He studied her, eyes stark and sympathetic. She braced herself for the words. The stupid, meaningless words that everyone said because no one ever knew what to say. No one understood that hearing nothing was better than hearing “I’m so sorry” or “How awful” or “I can’t imagine” one more time.

But instead of any of those he said, “I was a prisoner of war. They used brain washing techniques on me, until I couldn’t remember who I was. Then they gave me this arm and a gun and turned me on people who had been my friends.”

It sounded incredible, surreal. Like the plot of a Cold War movie. But he said it with the same grim, tight way she talked about her experience and so she believed him, completely and entirely. And she didn’t say any of the stupid things she hated hearing from other people.

“Better now?” she said instead.

He smiled a little. “Yes. Much. I live with my oldest buddy and his girl. Work for Del. I still have moments sometimes when I worry this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up and ordered on another mission. But most of the time this is my life and I can almost forget.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” She curled her hands around her tea mug. “Most days I wake up and the sun is shining and I know I work at the hospital and people brush by me on the sidewalk or bump me on the subway and it’s fine. But every so often a strangers hands feel like his and I wonder, what if this is all a dream? I’ve just dissociated to escape the attack and everything after that moment is a lie.” She swallowed hard and drank her tea. She’d never told anyone that, not even the psychiatrist she’d gone to when she got home.

“What gets you out of it?” James asked.

“Sometimes I just muscle through. Tell myself it’s not true, that I’m here and I’m safe and that man is dead half a world away. Sometimes it takes hearing a song or reading a poem and knowing I could never imagine something like that. Sometimes I sit in the sun and let it soak in and decide that if it is a dream it’s a good one.”

That made him smile and she knew without him saying anything that he had those moments, too. That his dream was good enough that maybe it didn’t matter if it was real.

The barista called his name then and they each took one last swig of their drink before standing to go gather up the massive coffee order that was waiting on the counter for them.

She tried to help him carry them, but it was hard to argue upper body strength with a man with a metal arm. He toted the cardboard box lined with two dozen paper cups as if it were empty as they walked back down the street. Amanda held a normal cardboard tray with their drinks, freshened up on the house by the barista.

The walk back to the club was uneventful, both of them quiet and contemplating their own thoughts. Amanda liked that the silence wasn’t awkward or heavy. Finding someone you could be silent with was rare. 

It surprised her how much she liked him. She could admit that since she’d come back to the states she’d been isolated. She saw Jessie regularly, Becca when she came into town. She had people at the hospital she considered work friends. The nice boy at the Starbucks near her apartment knew her name and exactly how high to fill her tea so she’d have room for cream and honey. But there had been no men. No _interest_ in men. She hadn’t been a party animal to begin with, but now the idea of going to a bar or joining a dating website just about turned her stomach. It probably wasn’t healthy, but she told herself it wasn’t hurting anything. As long as she didn’t miss it, what was the harm in going without?

But she did miss it. She’s hadn’t realized it until she was walking next to a handsome man who made her smile, but she did. She missed flirting. The little quiver of awareness and interest when you realized he was flirting back. And now that she’d had it again, she really didn’t know what to do next.

Back at the club, the party had spread out into the front room, which made her relax a bit. More space made the crowd seem less confining and suffocating. She and James made their way around the room, handing out drinks. Some of the girls gave him little smirks when they noticed Amanda with him. She didn’t know if that was approval, disapproval or some sort of subtle mocking that she might think she had a chance with him.

That last one was probably just her own demons whispering to her.

“Your sister seems very comfortable in a crowd.”

They were at the bar sitting with their drinks on the smooth polished wood. James hunkered there like a gargoyle, ready to hop off and intercede if anything started getting out of hand. Amanda braced her feet on one of the barstools and looked over at Becca, holding court with two of the dancers, obviously well into her cups. “She just got divorced. Papers cleared a couple weeks ago. I think she’s sowing her oats.”

“Oh.” He resettled his feet. “That bad?”

“The marriage was. Her wife was very controlling. Jealous, vindictive. Didn’t like her having friends, got weird when she’d come out and visit me and Jess. I think it got physically abusive but Becca won’t cop to it.” She shrugged. “They probably shouldn’t have gotten married but they were in love and the law passed and they got swept up in it. Becca regretted it early on but wanted to try and stick it out.”

There was a moment of silence and she glanced over to look at him. He was staring at her with an expression on his face that she couldn’t put a name to. “What?”

He shook his head sharply. “Sorry, no. I was just thinking she was lucky to have you. I’m bisexual and I know sometimes people. . . my family would not have been okay with it.”

Tension eased in her shoulders and she smiled. “Becca had some people in school who gave her a hard time. We’re from North Carolina, which is not a bastion of tolerance. I made beating up bigots a full time job.” That made him smile. “Who people love isn’t anyone’s business, as long as everyone is consenting.”

He was staring again, but this time she could read his expression well enough to know she had said the exact right thing. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Her throat tightened up with nerves and even thought she swallowed hard, twice, she couldn’t clear it. So she just nodded and tilted her head towards him when he leaned in.

His scruff was rough against her cheek, but his lips were remarkably soft. It was a very chaste, cautious kiss and she felt herself relax a little. He didn’t touch her anywhere else. When she started to kiss him back he sighed and scooted closer, letting the kiss deepen. He sucked her upper lip between his, nibbling lightly, before breaking the kiss and leaning back. Amanda couldn’t help swaying towards him a little when he left her.

“I’ve really liked talking to you,” he whispered. “Can I have your number and we could do it again?”

She was pretty sure she was blushing horribly and she wasn’t entirely sure she could speak. But that was, by far, the best way of asking for a date she’d ever heard. So she nodded dumbly and rummaged in her pocket for a piece of paper.


End file.
